Her Majesty, The School Girl
by Hubert24601
Summary: Short oneshot about Lucy after The Voyage of The Dawn Treader. T.


To BrezyBee, who once told me that I was never alone.

Thank you, Max4Simon for helping me! and Emma for making me laugh and telling me my writing sucked :)

**Her Majesty, the Schoolgirl**

Narnia – Post Voyage - Pre Last Battle

I have no idea if there will be spoilers or not.

Just in case you all are wondering, Lucy is 8 in Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, she is 9 in Prince Caspian, she is 11 in Voyage, and by The Last Battle she is 17.

Edmund is 10 in L,WATW, he is 11 in PC, 13 in Voyage, and by The Last Battle he is 19.

Susan is 12 in L,WATW, 13 in PC, and by The Last Battle she is 21.

Peter is 13 in L,WATW, 14 in PC, and by The Last Battle is 22.

Lucy Pevensie sighed as she walked slowly around the old house that seemed so small to her now. Had it really been almost a decade since she had been here last? Wandering the halls with her brothers and sister, playing several rounds of hide and seek, and oh! How could she have forgotten that small, secret room? With a slight thrill running down her spine, her steps quickened and soon she was almost running down the hall towards that door, that door – she suddenly burst through it, and sighed, a mixed one of relief, sadness, joy and melancholy.

There, if not slightly smaller than how she remembered it, stood the wardrobe, the door just open a slight crack.

Was she waiting for the light? Was she waiting for _his_ noble roar? Lucy did not know, but as she stared longingly at that door, a thousand memories came rushing back, all at once.

"_Aslan is on the move! The witch's magic is weakening."_

"…_High King over all Kings in Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion…"_

"… _When a willing victim who has committed no treachery is killed a traitors' stead, the Table itself would crack and Death itself would start working backward."_

"_Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight…_"

"_To the glistening Eastern sea, Queen Lucy the Valiant!"_

"_At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more…"_

"_To the great Western wood, Edmund the Just!"_

_When he bears his teeth, winter meets its death…"_

"_To the radiant Southern sun, Queen Susan, the Gentle!"_

_And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again."_

"_To the Northern sky, I give you, King Peter, the Magnificent!"_

Lucy's tears fell slowly down her cheeks as she recalled all of the wonder and splendor of her other world. Would she ever see it again? Though Aslan had told her she wouldn't – still, it was hard to conceive. Where once she had reigned, she ruled no more. Where once the creatures and spirits of the woods would dance and play with her, she would never walk again.

_Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia._

This in itself was not something hard to remember. She had spent over a decade in Narnia, learning all about being royalty. The problem was coming back into the old world, where she was once more a mere schoolgirl, where people treated her the exact opposite of Narnia. But she had grown with grace, her regal being still somewhat intact, and it had made her the better.

She _had_ found Aslan in this country, though she still missed the warmth, tangible realness of his fur, his mane, his breath.

It was moments like these, prowling the sweet memory of a haunt, that she longed for her past. Her fingers trailed the intricate workings of the wardrobe, her lips parting in a long, soft sigh.

Lucy hadn't planned on staying at the old house very long, and in fact, Susan was waiting for her impatiently in the front hall. Whereas Lucy was still whimsical and filled with a sense of incomplete longing that never went away, Susan was the exact opposite. She had 'grown up' so much that she never wanted to talk about their adventures, ever, which made Lucy very sad and wary.

"I'm sorry," Lucy whispered, a tear straying down her cheek. "I have to leave now."

But, Lucy thought, as she was walking back towards the door and turned back to take one last look, she thought she felt a wisp of breath, a brief sniff of salt water, and perhaps, just perhaps, the slightest hint of a whiskered kiss on her forehead.


End file.
